


Whispered Confessions

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [117]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avenger Loki (Marvel), Avenger Reader (Marvel), F/M, Friends to Lovers, I Love You, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, POV Loki (Marvel), Pre-Relationship, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25414582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: Loki comes to a startling discovery one night as he rests beside you in your bed.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [117]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 13
Kudos: 252





	Whispered Confessions

Night drew in around the two of you, as it did every day, and Loki found himself once again stretched out beside you under the covers. Tonight, you’d drifted off rather quickly, and already you were curled around him, snoring sweetly into his chest. He worked his fingers through your hair as you slept. He’d been spending a lot of time in your room lately: it had started out as simple conversations, which then stretched into all-nighters any time one of you was especially stressed or angry, and then it only made sense for him to sleep in your bed rather than having to go back to his own rooms. And then he started staying here even on good nights. Logically, he knew that all of the sleeping quarters in the Tower had the same kind of bed, but something about yours felt so much more comfortable than his.

When he stayed here with you, you’d slip into your bathroom to change into your pajamas, and sometimes when you re-emerged, you’d smile shyly at him. He rather liked seeing you like that, dressed more comfortably, in clothing that should have been—or _was—_ private. It was hardly provocative: you slept in soft shorts or trousers and an oversized t-shirt, but it felt intimate. It had to take a lot for you to feel comfortable enough in his presence to let him see you like that, so he appreciated it.

The first morning that he awakened with you in his arms, he’d had a few blessed moments of peace before you woke up too. You were soft. You were warm. At some point in the night, you had moved closer to him and put your arm around his waist and carried on sleeping like this was nothing special. It felt a little dishonest, now, for him to leave his arm around you where it’d been when he woke up, but he wasn’t willing to pull away and risk waking you. So he held you, too, and tried not to examine too closely how he felt about this. 

When you woke up, you did not immediately recoil. He felt your arm tighten around him first, and then you rubbed your face sleepily against his chest. Could he have that? Was it possible for someone like him to have someone like you every morning? Before he could decide on an answer, you stiffened a little, and pulled away to roll onto your back. He’d braced himself, but you’d only apologized for groping him, for whatever you’d done in the night. You didn’t sound horrified at having touched him, only at having touched him _without permission_. Something like promise began to bloom in his chest, then, and he assured you that you had his permission, always. The next time that he stayed over, you’d hesitantly asked if you could hold him again, and he found himself treasuring the hope in your voice. 

You didn’t treat him like the others did. He didn’t necessarily blame them for being wary of him, but it still wore on him day after day. But you did not side-eye him. You did not hesitate before joining him in a common space somewhere. You did not crack jokes about not trusting him. In fact, there had been a handful of times that he’d walked in on you scolding one of the others about making jokes like that in the first place. When he caught you like that, you always seemed rather embarrassed, like you hadn’t intended for him to overhear you. He did not often feel the need of a mortal’s protection, but he came to appreciate yours nonetheless.

He did not get paired up with you nearly enough on missions. You were far more likely to be sent off with Rogers or Romanoff, while he was mainly stuck with Thor. And maybe that was fine, for now. He knew that you could take care of yourself, but he also appreciated knowing that you were with someone who could keep you safe. And maybe he understood why people thought he needed a babysitter, even though he did resent the fact that it’d gone on for so long. But that also meant that he spent many nights alone in the Tower. You were the reason he’d finally agreed to accept a Midgardian phone: you told him it’d be easier for the two of you to communicate while you were apart. And when you were gone, you sent him little messages as often as you were able—not nearly as much as he would have preferred, but...enough for the moment. But most of the time that was too dangerous. Most of the time he laid awake staring at the ceiling and wondering if all was well. 

It was after one of your longer missions that he finally slipped and revealed the truth to you. Originally, it was only supposed to last a week, but issue after issue had cropped up and extended your stay longer and longer. By the time your jet finally landed, it had been nearly a month since he’d seen you last, and he’d made sure to be standing right there waiting for you to disembark. He’d read about mortals’ stomachs doing flips and turns when they saw someone who mattered to them, but that night was the first time that he’d ever felt it happen. You’d trudged off of the jet carrying your bag and looking exhausted, and it’d been difficult to stop himself from immediately running to greet you. When you saw him, your eyes lit up and a weary, grateful smile threatened to curl your lips. He’d taken you into his arms that night, among the other agents and crew members working, and slanted his lips over yours without a second thought.

And you kissed him back. He heard your bag drop to the ground only moments before you were winding both of your arms up around his neck. Your kiss was hard and fierce and hungry, like you couldn’t possibly get enough of him. It was a little hard to believe. Kissing you had been an impulse, something he hadn’t thought much about before he did it, but, now that he was doing it, stopping felt just as impossible. You were the first to pull away. You dragged your teeth along his lower lip when you did, and it made him want to surge forward and start all over again. But you pressed a steadying hand to his chest and looked up at him through your lashes and he had to catch his breath.

“I missed you,” you said quietly, almost bashfully, as though _you’d_ been the one to initiate the kiss. He only laughed and took you into his arms and did not let you go.

Tonight, despite his best efforts and the sound of your peaceful breathing, he could not sleep. In the past, that would have been enough to frustrate him, even to make him get out of bed and stalk through the Tower, but you were a comforting weight beside him and he didn’t want to disturb you. So he let himself think about you instead. He turned you over in his mind: the memories, the feelings, each fleeting touch, each kiss. Your pajamas. Your smile. The sound of your laughter. All of it made his heart beat faster, and he knew he’d never get to sleep at this rate, but that was fine. He moved his hand from your hair to your back, and drew looping patterns against you. You sighed in your sleep, a contented sound, and nuzzled your face against his chest again. The thought came unbidden and unexpected, but undeniable. As surely as he drew breath, he knew that it was the truth. 

“I _love_ you,” he whispered into the top of your head. It felt strange to say it aloud, but...not wrong. You had been the single steady line here in this Tower which anchored him to reality. You anchored him to himself, and did not let the others’ suspicion sink too deeply into his bones. And yet, even as you accepted and embraced who he was, you let yourself be so vulnerable with him. You trusted him. You cared for him. You made a home in him, and allowed him to do the same in you. He swallowed and repeated himself, mostly testing the feeling of the words. “I love you.”

You hummed, which might have made him start if he hadn’t already heard you do the same thing in your sleep countless times. You hummed, you mumbled, you whined, sometimes you even _sang_ in your sleep. It was the most bewildering and also charming thing he’d ever seen. You tightened your arm around him again and lifted your chin just slightly, just enough. “I love _you_.”

He did not try to fight his smile. You were still asleep. There was no doubt about that. But if, in your sleep, you responded to him like that, the odds seemed good that you felt the same way when you were awake. He tightened his arm around you and kissed the top of your head. He felt good.

He felt _right_.


End file.
